


Bandage

by bestGuesses, leangreencastielmachine



Series: Baggage [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: :), Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Blood Kink, Blood and Injury, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean Winchester, Buried Alive, Consensual Sex, Dark, Edgeplay, Friends With Benefits, Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Human Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt Dean Winchester, Knifeplay, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Murder Husbands, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Painplay, Possessive Castiel (Supernatural), Serial Killer Castiel (Supernatural), Serial Killer Dean Winchester, Serial Killers, Smut, Some Humor, Top Castiel (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Well - Freeform, a little fluff, but consensual hurt, please im not a comedian, so you thought the first one had slicing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:28:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25025428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestGuesses/pseuds/bestGuesses, https://archiveofourown.org/users/leangreencastielmachine/pseuds/leangreencastielmachine
Summary: Castiel is pent up.Red is Dean's color.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Baggage [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1812133
Comments: 12
Kudos: 77





	Bandage

**Author's Note:**

> alright so yes this is me possibly just kind of using indulgent fics as an excuse to not update on the corner but ive been in a mood for dark fics so!!! here!!!  
> tw for usual murdery stuff, asphyxiation, and death by being buried alive (not GRAPHIC graphic but its a thing)  
> thank you so much for taking the time to read this and thank you leangreencastielmachine for betaing this

Cas tugged at the collar of his jacket as he looked into the rearview mirror. He looked good; good enough to seem inconspicuous. That was what he was going for anyway. He stepped out of the car, shutting the door behind him. His t-shirt clung to his body and stretched across his chest, too tight for his liking but perfect for blending in. He brushed himself off on instinct, it wasn’t like there was even any chance for anything to be on his shirt, and glanced around. His eyes were drawn to the neon sign above the entrance. 

_ Bottom’s Up _ . 

He figured it was an ironic enough name for the gay bar, a new one he’d only been to once before. His last spot had been busted by the cops while he was in the midst of dragging a guy to his car, and he’d been smart enough to haul ass out. The man was very confused, but at least Cas never had to see him again after that. It was a very close call.  _ Far  _ too close for comfort, in his opinion. He sighed, cracking his knuckles before heading inside.

The stench of alcohol and sweat was nauseating as soon as he entered, but it was nothing he wasn’t used to. At least it wasn’t the same bar Dean  _ always _ visited; it had been a wonder he hadn’t been caught. Dean was his junior in the whole murdering business by two years, only being active for one. His work was sloppy, and there’d been numerous times he’d shown up at Cas’ door with a bullet in his shoulder or leg. He’d even been shot in the ass once, which Cas still found to be absolutely hilarious. 

Dean respectfully disagreed. 

And by respectfully, it means he’d thrown a hissy fit as soon as Cas burst out in cackles when he saw the wound. Cas still joked about it, but he’d covered that scar anyway. He  _ much _ preferred neat slices over the near-perfect circle of the shot.

Cas walked to the bar, shooting winks to whoever looked long enough and slid onto a stool. He sprawled his legs out, bending his knees at an angle that he knew did wonders for his thighs. The bartender walked over with a grin on his face, his hair dyed bright blue. He’d make an interesting kill, Cas knew, but he wasn’t going to risk taking an employee down. Still, he felt his fingers twitch toward his knife at the thought.

“What do you want, hon?” He asked, tapping multicolored nails against the bar counter.

“Sex on the Beach,” Cas smirked. His charm did the trick, and the bartender shot him a wink before sauntering off, swinging his hips as he walked to reach for the bottle of vodka. Cas wasn’t all that interested and Dean would probably lose his mind if he found out he slept with anyone else anyway. Cas was tempted to go out and comb the crowd, but he wasn’t sure how willing he was to initiate the flirting that particular night. He decided to just sit and wait for someone to come over to him, taking his drink when it was brought over. The bartender lingered for a moment before seeing that Cas wasn’t even looking his way, eventually giving up and going to take other patron’s orders.

Oh well.

Not like Cas really cared.

Dean had picked up a lot of his strategy from Cas. After all, finding him terrified in an alley and covered in blood was quite the introduction. At least he’d been found by the right guy; he’d have been fucked if anyone else stumbled across that sight.

Cas still occasionally thought about that when he had a hand down his pants.

Dean had the looks to lure men and women alike, whereas Cas stuck to men. He'd rather be thrown in prison for life than flirt with a woman. It was a personal preference, mostly because he was a flaming homosexual himself. Still, Dean had a different charm and a different method. Dean liked the blood, Cas hated having to deal with the mess. Too risky, in his opinion, although it was still satisfying to watch the color fade from people’s eyes as they choked on their own blood. 

Dean liked to sit by the bar, arch his back and look pretty until someone came in. Cas preferred to prop a leg up, sipping his straw from the corner of his mouth and smirking at whoever looked at him long enough. As always, someone took the bait.

  
The flirting was a blur; Cas pulled out the same lines he’d used countless times. The same subtle touches, spreading his legs in his too-tight jeans. Grunge was never his thing, he was more of a sweater guy himself, but if leather was what lured people in, he was willing to sacrifice some level of comfort for it. 

He resisted the urge to fidget in anticipation; he had to admit that he was excited. He knew it probably wasn’t normal to fantasize about how someone looked as they attempted desperately to take their last breaths, but that level of power over someone else’s life was a rush that he couldn’t deny. 

It took about 10 minutes of mindless flirting before Cas invited him to his hotel room. The man accepted, thankfully, and Cas was more than glad to get out of the bar and to his car. He took the wheel in hand and drove to the shitty Motel 8 he’d rented a room in, (under an alias and fake card, of course.) The AC was a welcome relief from the humid air of the bar; everything was getting pretty nauseating for him. Cas parked and got out of his car. The guy dragged him to the hallway, and as soon as Cas told him the room number, he found himself being pushed in. He stumbled back, pleasantly surprised by the enthusiasm of his latest catch. The man pinned him against the wall, kissing him hard and sliding a knee between his thighs.

_ That’s one way to go about it _ , Cas thought.

He gave as good as he got, if not better. He slid a hand over his hip and trailed between his thighs, squeezing and feeling muscle through his jeans. Cas figured it’d be an interesting night as he flipped them around, stepping back with him and pinning him to the bed. Cas sat on his lap, getting comfortable as he bent over and slid his tongue into his mouth, grazing against teeth and nipping his lip. Cas cupped a hand over his bulge, squeezing as he reached another hand to his neck.

“Is this okay?” He asked, dramatizing the roughness of his voice. If anything, he was bored by the actual sex aspect. He was hoping for some fight, maybe a little pain to keep the stakes high. Then again, he knew he had  _ very _ different intentions than his catch.

“Hell yeah,” the guy smirked, grinding up against him. Cas had to admit, the friction wasn’t bad. Just basic biology dictated that, and he was almost tempted to give in before remembering the much more satisfying option. He tightened his grip, putting more pressure down on his throat than on the sides of his neck. The guy either didn’t know that Cas was doing it incorrectly, or didn’t care. 

He’d only been caught once for his incorrect choking etiquette. He wasn’t quite expecting to catch someone who actually knew how basic kinks worked. He had to give kudos to that man before he crushed his windpipe, which he made clear as he watched the light fade from his eyes. Maybe complimenting him on his basic sex knowledge as he struggled for his last ever breath was inappropriate, but Cas saw it to be important enough to mention.

Cas kissed him again, using his free hand to curl in his hair as he ground back against him and added more pressure, resting his weight on the hand over the guy’s neck. The man tapped Cas’ side, pulling away from the kiss to try and say it was too much. Cas pressed down harder, holding up the charade as he kept grinding down. The tapping grew more insistent until it turned into clawing.

  
Cas pressed harder.

He balanced most of his weight on his one hand, pressing down and using the other to cover his nose and plug his mouth. His catch struggled but the air loss was already too much for him to fight Cas, which was a shame in his opinion. Then again, he’d been able to go further with him than most under the ruse. He lasted a minute of desperately clawing before the oxygen deprivation knocked him out.

  
Shame, he was looking forward to a struggle.

Still, Cas’ bulky suitcase did well for cramming unconscious bodies in. He lifted him, curling his body into a ball and laying him in the case before zipping it up. It was one of the rolling types, and Cas had no issue lugging the thing to his car and tossing it in the trunk. The receptionist at the front desk didn’t even look twice, and Cas couldn’t help but internally chuckle. 

Oh, if only she knew.

Cas presumed he had about 20 minutes before the man woke up, so he sped off. He shucked the jacket off of his shoulders and tossed it blindly into the back seat, enjoying the feeling of the cool air blowing over his bare arms. He’d found a woody area just off the road when he drove to town, and had prepared a shovel right next to the grave he’d already begun to dig. Just a little deeper was all it took before he grabbed the suitcase from his trunk, dropping it on the ground with a hard thunk. It probably would’ve hurt if the guy inside was awake. Cas had already broken a sweat from all of the exertion and the tight pants were  _ not _ helping that situation in the slightest, let alone dragging a body out of the trunk of his car.

He pulled the handle into the grass as it wobbled haphazardly before pulling it to a stop. He unzipped it, propping a foot by the fabric before flipping it and watching the man tumble in. The fall was hard, and Cas heard a crack that sounded suspiciously like something breaking.

Oops.

Covering the hole back up was hardly an issue and Cas knew that on the off chance he woke up, he wouldn’t be getting out. At least not on his own, but what were the odds that someone would purposely drive off the road to look for someone buried alive? Pleased with his work, he brushed the dirt off of his jeans and brought his suitcase back to the car. It was expensive and he wasn’t willing to bury it. One last glance in the rearview mirror showed himself, pupils dilated and hair messy, with sweat dripping down his forehead. He grinned to himself as he started the car.

He was long overdue for another visit with Dean.

***

The drive back was long and mostly uneventful. No cops on his ass, as per usual (unlike Dean). He was a few hours out of Lebanon and turned the volume to his favorite pop station on low. Sure, he killed people for fun, but he also knew how to appreciate a good Taylor Swift song. 

Sue him. 

He’d changed at the first rest stop he’d passed, back into his usual sweatpants and sweater combo. Dean had always bitched that it wasn’t flattering, but for someone who usually just sat on his couch with a bag of Cheetos and his computer with his 900th unfinished novel, he wasn’t looking to be flattering. 

He desperately needed a shower, a mix of sweat and dirt from the grave had him feeling less than squeaky clean. He  _ hated _ grime, especially being covered in blood (with the sole exception being his times with Dean, but he was absolutely  _ gorgeous _ sliced up and squirming under him.) He really wished Dean actually knew how to clean up before he visited instead of constantly barging into his home, staining his carpet with some poor soul’s blood, and hijacking his damn shower. He usually more than made up for that, though. Dean Winchester was a messy killer and a pain in the ass, but he knew how to suck dick, and Cas could at least appreciate that. Not to mention that he was beginning to get more attached to him than he’d planned; he’d never expected Dean to be as endearing as he was.

He spent the rest of his drive fantasizing about a warm shower, and he nearly flew out of the car as soon as he arrived in the parking lot of his shitty apartment. Cas made a beeline for the shower, tossing his clothes off as he went and nearly tripping over his underwear as he hopped out of them and into the bathroom. He made the grave mistake of turning the water on and walking right in, immediately being frozen to death by the stream. After some loud cursing, slipping, and a near-fall (and maybe a few violent threats to his plumbing), he moved away from the ice water and adjusted the temperature, still shivering from the sudden shock.

“Fuck this,” he mumbled to himself as he grabbed the bottle of body wash and a rag, cleaning himself off. He stood, facing away from the stream and let the water pressure massage his neck and shoulders. His arms were sore from digging that grave and he missed getting actual massages.

Maybe he could ask Dean for one.

Cas quickly washed his hair when he remembered he needed to call Dean. He dried himself off in record time and threw a clean pair of loose pants on, not bothering with underwear or a shirt. It’d be coming off anyway if Dean agreed to visit. On the off chance that he didn’t agree, Cas didn’t mind using his little ensemble as pajamas.

_ Cas (3:24AM): I’m lonely. _

He sent the message after a few moments of consideration. Thankfully for him, Dean immediately responded.

_ Dean (3:24AM): Why are you even awake? _

_ Dean (3:24AM): Oh. Wait. Yeah. _

_ Cas (3:25AM): No shit. Are you coming over? _

_ Dean (3:25AM): Who pissed in your cereal? _

_ Dean (3:25AM): And yeah. I’ll come over. _

_ Dean (3:25AM): If you apologize. _

Cas rolled his eyes; Dean was absolutely going to have a long night for that comment alone.

_ Cas (3:26AM): Fuck you. _

_ Dean (3:26AM): Not quite. _

_ Cas (3:26AM): Fine. Sorry. _

_ Dean (3:26AM): Much better. I’ll see you in 10 ;) _

_  
_ Cas groaned to himself, flopping back on his couch. He didn’t want to deal with Dean being intentionally aggravating but he had a feeling Dean was having that kind of night. It was nothing he couldn’t handle, he was just tired. He stayed on his phone, scrolling through his old messages with Dean out of boredom. For the most part, it was single messages. A lot of them informing where they’d be that night. The rest consisted of late night calls, Cas asking Dean to visit or vice versa. Some were more straightforward than others, and there were even a few that were just images that Cas absolutely did  _ not _ have saved to his phone.

Well… he was human. 

That one picture of Dean in panties should’ve been considered a national treasure.

He kept skimming through their messages. He kind of wished they’d talk more; the extent of their conversations were either related to work or sex with the sole exception of pillow talk, which was usually brief since Dean had a habit of knocking out as soon as he came.

Cas refused to admit that he found it at least a tiny bit cute when Dean snuggled into his blankets and bitched about cleanup. It was a pain getting him up to shower or even put underwear on, but it always felt great when he slid under the covers beside him and draped an arm around him while he was soft and warm. Cas would never actually tell anyone, but he really did enjoy those brief moments of genuine intimacy. The feeling of Dean’s fingers tightening around his bicep as he aligned their bodies together, leaning into Cas’ warmth… 

There was a knock at the door.

Cas snapped out of his trance, setting his phone on his coffee table before answering the door. Dean had a lopsided grin plastered on his face, wearing his signature leather jacket and a tight t-shirt underneath. It was obvious he’d sprayed himself in a generous amount of cologne, and Cas just hoped it was on his clothes because he didn’t want to leave a hickey on his neck and taste chemicals.

“Hey,” Dean smirked, taking a long moment to look down at Cas’ bare torso. Cas cocked a brow.

“Are you going to stare or are you going to come in?”

“I can do both,” Dean said simply, but stepped inside anyway. Cas closed the door behind him, standing and looking at Dean. He could feel the tension thrumming through the air, and he made no move to resolve it, instead shooting Dean a smirk.

“You just gonna stand there, bud?” Dean asked.

“Yes,” Cas responded cooly, “I’ve spent enough time pushing you against walls, I want to see what you can do.”

“Why?” Dean asked.

“I feel like mixing things up, it’s 3 in the morning, and I’m tired,” he said, stepping forward and lightly grabbing his chin, tilting his head downward, “You submit beautifully, Dean. I think it’s about time I let you initiate this.”

The air between them felt like it was drawn tight, and Cas was practically thrumming with anticipation. He really did want to see how Dean handled things, and maybe a small,  _ small _ part of him wanted to see Dean get carried away, caught up on instinct. Maybe Dean would pull a knife on him.

Cas mentally filed the image of himself wrestling Dean down and using his own knife on him in his mind.

“This is so weird,” Dean mumbled. Cas grinned in response and shrugged. Dean looked up before grabbing him by the wrist, dragging him to the bedroom. Cas managed to grab his phone on the way out, quickly setting it down in case they needed it for whatever reason. Dean slipped his jacket off, quickly following it with his shirt. When Cas stepped forward to help, he pushed a hand to stop him.

“Nope,” he said, “Stay there. I’ll tell you when you can come over.” He gave Cas his signature shit-eating grin. Cas nodded, intrigued enough to follow his directions. Maybe Dean wasn’t taking the turn Cas had hoped he would, but he was always up to see what he had in mind.

Dean kicked his boots off, shoving his jeans down his hips. His underwear was pushed down with them, and he grinned when he saw the darkened look in Cas’ eye. He reached into Cas’ nightstand, quickly grabbing the lube and slicking his hand up before wrapping it around his cock. He was half-hard already, stroking himself a few times. He brushed his thumb over the slit and let out a hitched breath. Cas had to stop a noise at that, watching as he slowly moved his hand down. He trailed his fingers around his hole before pushing one in, his legs spread so Cas could see.

“Fuck,” Cas said breathlessly. Dean laughed as he worked on loosening himself, tensing when he found his prostate. He eventually added another finger after a torturously long time. Cas kept standing, keeping his hands behind his back so he could resist the urge to slip a hand under his waistband, because with a show like that? He highly doubted his ability to last.

God, he needed his knife.

Dean added a third finger, working up to a fourth. He was squirming at that point, his legs trembling as he rubbed down on his prostate. He was panting, letting out small moans. Cas’ pants were getting very uncomfortably tight, and he was about to disregard Dean’s demand to stand to the side to in favor of fucking him until he couldn’t walk. His fingers twitched at the thought of Dean, his thighs covered in slices and blood begging to be fucked. Thankfully, Dean pulled his fingers out and looked at Cas, his face flushed.

“Get over here,” he smirked. Cas moved as fast as he could, striding across the room and settling between Dean’s legs. He leaned over his body to kiss him, running a hand up his chest and to his collarbone. He wanted to reach higher, maybe let him fall unconscious, but where was the fun in that? He liked hearing Dean’s whimpers, his subtle twitches. Dean always made him feel like he was burning alive from the inside- he  _ needed _ him begging for Cas. He needed him to do as he said, and maybe act out a little so Cas could indulge. 

After all, red  _ was _ his color. 

Dean was warm under him, letting out a pleased noise as he reached up and opened the drawer, knowing that Cas would probably be grabbing something from there. Cas grabbed his knife, as per usual, before a glint of metal caught his eye.

He’d been cuffed, a cop had caught him. He remembered not being scared at all, after all, he didn’t account for the fact that Castiel had to be prepared for everything. It wasn’t hard to slide a lockpick into the cuffs, freeing himself and smashing the radio. Cas took his time that night, leaving the body in the middle of the local lake.

  
That’d been a memorable time.

He kept the cuffs as a memento, and after a lot of disinfecting, he’d used them on Dean maybe twice before. He decided to grab them, holding them up where Dean could see.

“Hands above your head,” Cas ordered roughly. Dean hummed, kissing him deeper than before and running his fingers over Cas’ back, clearly trying to savor the contact. His touch almost tickled, and as much as Cas relished the feeling of Dean’s hands on him, he had other plans. He pulled away, sitting up straight between his legs.

“I’m asking nicely.”

“But I wanna touch you,” Dean whined.

“Shut up,” Cas responded simply. “Hands. Above. Your. Head.  _ Now _ .”

Dean rolled his eyes, doing as Cas instructed. Cas cuffed him a little tighter than necessary, mostly out of annoyance from his small form of disobedience. He set the key on the nightstand, making sure it was far enough from the bed that they wouldn’t find some way to knock it off and lose it. “Don’t roll your eyes at me,” he said, digging his nails into Dean’s shoulder in warning. Dean’s arms were stuck above his head, his hands bound to the headboard and leaving his sides and underarms completely vulnerable.

“Or what?”

“You’ll bleed,” Cas responded, unfolding his knife. “Well, you’re going to bleed anyway. I’ll just make sure it  _ hurts _ ,” he hummed, tracing the blade over Dean’s skin. Dean shivered as Cas circled it over his chest and around each nipple. He waited for one of Dean’s signature snarky comments.

“Can you please get me off now?” Dean grumbled. Cas pressed the blade down, watching as it sunk down into his pec. Dean winced, resisting the urge to squirm as he held his breath. Cas pulled the blade away as blood trailed down to his sternum. The cut wasn’t too deep but it sure as hell bled. Dean shivered as he felt the sting of his newest wound.

“No,” Cas said after a long moment, trailing the knife back down to his hip. He made a small cut over the bone where he knew it’d hurt, listening to Dean’s whimper from the pain before pulling it lower. He took a bit of pleasure from purposely setting it slowly down by Dean’s legs, absolutely not missing the way his eyes bugged out. He wasn’t going to do anything down there, he wasn’t  _ that _ cruel.

Well, at least not to Dean.

He grabbed the bottle of lube, slicking his fingers up and roughly pressing two in. Dean was already slick and stretched, so Cas found his prostate and shook his hand to mimic a vibrator. His wrist ached from the strange angle but it was all worth it when he heard Dean cry out, trying to pull out of his cuffs as he spread his legs wider. Cas paused the movement as Dean let out hard breaths, trying to compose himself. His eyes were naturally drawn to the blood dripping down into the divot of his V-line.

“How much time do we have?” Cas asked.

“I- I have work at 10:00 in the morning and I want at least 4 hours of sleep,” Dean choked out. Cas did the mental math, a little pleased with himself for not being too sleep deprived to fail third grade work. Sleep was overrated, he quickly decided as he redirected his attention to Dean’s flushed body, sprawled out and there just for  _ him _ .

“Two hours,” he grinned. “God, I could  _ ruin _ you,” he laughed darkly. Dean swallowed.

“What’s stopping you?” He asked hoarsely.

Yeah, sleep was  _ very _ overrated when he had Dean Winchester in his bed.

Cas ignored how his cock twitched at Dean’s words and thought for a moment. “Nothing, really. So… how about this? I’ll edge you as long as I can, and you won’t say a word unless you need me to stop. You can moan, scream, I don’t care, but I don’t want to see those pretty lips moving.”

Dean let out a breath, “Do it.”

“If you say so,” Cas stated. His mind was racing with possibilities, he rarely had that much time with Dean, and he got so tired after orgasm that their encounters rarely lasted longer than half an hour of mindblowing sex. Not that Cas was complaining, but he really enjoyed the nights where he could at least take his time. 

Dean had been too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice that Cas still had his fingers inside of him, so he took the opportunity to press down on his prostate. Dean jerked hard as he snapped out of his little daydream, his cuffs rattling loudly above him. Cas laughed at his reaction and Dean just scowled.

“Fuck you,” he huffed. Cas used his left hand to grab the knife from where it rested on the sheets right by Dean’s ass, slicing the inside of his thigh. The movement was quick enough that Dean didn’t even react until Cas was setting the knife back down, a line of blood trailing down his skin and to the blanket under him. Dean yelped, opening his mouth to say something else before thinking better of it. Cas smiled, unable to help that he was at least a little proud of Dean. He usually took a while before he really caught on to their rules, although Cas could hardly blame him when they were such a rare occurrence.

“Good boy,” Cas smirked. Dean rolled his eyes again, biting his tongue so he wouldn’t comment and rolling his hips against Cas’ knuckles. Cas added lube and pushed a third finger in alongside his first two, spreading them as wide as he could to stretch him out. Dean hummed as Cas rubbed the pad of his middle finger against his prostate. Dean threw his head back, letting out a broken moan as he pressed down, keeping steady pressure on it. Dean’s cock was red and neglected, resting against his stomach. Cas chuckled to himself before leaning forward to wrap his lips around the head, thrusting his fingers into Dean.

“Shit!” Dean panted, shutting his eyes tightly before realizing what he had done, releasing a heavy sigh. Cas didn’t immediately slice him like he’d expected, swirling his tongue around the head before taking as much of Dean into his mouth as he could. If Cas immediately punished him, he’d lose the novelty of Dean’s reactions. He needed to keep him on his toes.

Cas heard the cuffs rattling above him, Dean struggling against them once more before remembering his efforts were futile. He let out what was almost a sob as Cas pulled off of his cock and licked along the vein on the underside, flattening his tongue against the head. Dean whined and spread his legs wider for Cas to press his fingers in deeper. Cas saw his chance and took it, digging the knife into his thigh above the previous cut and making a neat X. He didn’t cut deep enough that Dean would need stitches, but he knew he was pushing it. Dean let out a sob, his entire body rattled with trembles.

“Do I need to stop? You can respond.”

“I don’t want stitches-”

“You don’t need them,” Cas said, setting the knife down. He folded it neatly and kept it close enough that he could quickly grab it if he needed it before using that hand to gently pet over Dean’s hip, circling his thumb on his stomach. “Are you lightheaded?”

“No. Not dizzy or anything either. Just- please don’t make me end up with stitches.”

“I’m not.” Cas pulled his fingers out of Dean, holding one that had just been inside of Dean up to motion for him to wait. Dean whimpered in response but Cas didn’t answer, standing up going to the kitchen. He’d bought juice boxes specifically for Dean, since they rarely had a night where Dean left with no new scars, and carried at least 8 back to the room. He passed the bathroom and quickly dipped inside, reaching into the medicine cabinet for the first aid kit. He wasted no time in rushing back to the room. As soon as Dean saw him, he sighed in relief and laid back against the pillow.

“Are you ready to continue?” Cas asked, a hand resting on Dean’s knee and squeezing reassuringly. Cas knew he could lose control, but he’d never allow himself to do that with Dean. He’d never intentionally do any sort of irrevocable harm to him.

“Yeah.”

“Good,” he began, “From this point on, you can no longer talk. Do you understand?” He asked, moving his hand from Dean’s knee and down his thigh, his fingers smearing the blood and leaving neat paths on his skin. Dean nodded and Cas responded with a pleased hum, leaning over to place a kiss over the cut on his hip. He wiped the blood off of his fingertips onto a discarded t-shirt, presumably Dean’s, and squirting lube into his palm. 

Cas wrapped his hand around Dean’s cock, stroking it a few times to ensure Dean wouldn’t be dealing with any sort of uncomfortable chafing. Dean’s breath hitched as Cas moved his hand and he bucked his hips up into the touch, his toes curling as Cas tightened his grip marginally, enough to emulate the feeling of fucking someone. Dean whined at the movement as Cas began to lift his hand once more, pressing the pad of his thumb over his slit before setting a fast pace, twisting his wrist whenever he reached the head. Dean bit his lip, and Cas could tell it was taking a lot of his willpower not to speak. 

Dean had always been vocal in bed, sharp-tongued and always more than willing to sass him. Cas mentally considered gagging him, pondering on the possibilities. He had to admit, Dean bound and gagged, trying desperately to cry out was tempting, but his noises were always too pleasant to muffle. Besides, he liked watching Dean’s face as he barely resisted the urge to sass him and he needed Dean to be vocal to say what he wanted or didn’t want. He was sure that if he had Dean gagged, he’d have probably accidentally knocked him out numerous times.

“So good,” Cas gave a pleased smile. Dean was tense, trembling as he got closer to his climax. After so much time with him, Cas knew when to stop. He stroked him right until he saw the telltale sign of Dean’s small whimper, completely taking his hands off of him. He let out a loud whimper, breathing hard as he looked at Cas. He seemed mildly annoyed, but he was still coming down from being so close to the edge and his brain was still trying to remember how words worked. Cas smiled, leaning forward to kiss him, lightly biting down on his bottom lip. Dean relaxed, going pliant as he panted and lost himself in the familiar movement. They’d kissed so many times that it felt mostly natural at that point, enough to bring Dean back to his senses.

Cas moved a hand to his nipple, pinching harshly for a moment before rubbing over it to ease the sting. Dean moaned into his mouth, grinding up against the fabric of his pants. He was still hard and Cas really,  _ really _ appreciated the friction but wanted Dean still. He crawled up onto the bed, settling a knee hard enough over his sliced hip that he couldn’t move.

“Castiel-” Dean whined. Cas smirked into the kiss, slowly pulling away. Dean took a moment before realizing what was coming, “No stitches,” he repeated.

“Not the plan,” Cas said simply, picking his knife up from where it lay discarded on the sheets. He held it up for Dean to see, the blade shining in the light. Dean’s breath hitched as he slowly cut into his thigh, carving a small curve into his skin. He whimpered but Cas absolutely didn’t miss the way his cock twitched from the pain. He smirked.

“You love this,” he stated as he made the cut longer, stopping after what he assumed to be two inches. He was pushing the ‘no stitches’ rule, but it was hard not to when Dean was so beautiful, bleeding and pliant and all for  _ him _ .

“You spoke twice. No stitches,” Cas repeated his words, “Do you know what that means, Dean?”

Dean swallowed thickly and nodded as Cas moved up, looking at the cut he’d made on his chest. He knew he could do better than that, and with that thought he sliced down right beside his nipple but not close enough to cut it. He took his time on that slice, slowly applying more and more pressure before he pulled it away. More blood dripped down his body, staining the sheets below. It wasn’t like Cas minded, most of his blankets were covered in blood stains anyway since he had a habit of forgetting to lay Dean on any sort of towel. Cas took a moment to sit back and admire his handiwork. Dean’s thighs especially were covered in cuts and scars, blood pooling down onto his hips.

“You take this so well,” Cas said. “So beautiful,” he mumbled. Dean went pink at the praise, looking to the side to avoid eye contact. Cas laughed to himself as he slicked his fingers back up. He teased his prostate relentlessly, and once again, it wasn’t long before Dean was trembling and Cas needed to stop. He withdrew his hand, smirking as Dean let out an annoyed huff at the loss of contact. He shut his eyes tightly, taking a few deep breaths before speaking, his voice rough.

“Can I get juice?” He asked. Cas immediately nodded, cleaning his hands off before grabbing a box. He poked the straw into the little hole and guided it to Dean’s lips, swollen and spit-slick from their kisses. Dean drank it all before pushing the straw out of his mouth with his tongue. Cas tossed it aside, aiming for the trash can and missing horribly. He didn’t bother, redirecting his attention to Dean.

“Thank you for telling me,” Cas smiled, kissing him on the forehead. Dean nodded, spreading his legs a little wider in hopes that Cas could continue. Cas got the message and settled back between Dean’s legs, sitting back on his heels.. His pants were still very uncomfortably tight, and he’d been good with distracting himself enough to not need to do anything about it. After that brief delay, it was really all he could think about.

He figured it was time he let himself indulge a little more. 

He stood on his knees and slid his pants down his hips and over the curve of his ass, purposely putting on a show and smirking as he saw Dean’s expression. Dean very quickly realized what was going to happen, whimpering with anticipation. Cas wasn’t a fan of edging himself, but he was absolutely a fan of edging Dean and was more than willing to make that small sacrifice just to make sure he’d be absolutely boneless by the end of the night. He wanted him pliant, begging and whimpering and bloodied.

And all  _ his _ .

“Do you think you can handle me fucking you?” He grinned. Cas was better at lasting than Dean, primarily because he loved to get Dean as close to the edge as quick as possible and had to build up some patience himself to do that. It was also because he knew when to stop and build up the patience to last longer. Not to mention it made nights like they were having  _ much _ more interesting. 

“Yeah-” Dean said hoarsely, “Please, Castiel.”

Cas laughed, “Beg.”

Dean gave him a look, “Please. C’mon, just- please fuck me? Cas, I’m bad at this-”

Cas leaned in to kiss him. “I appreciate the effort,” he said. Dean smiled and Cas absolutely did not feel a fluttery feeling in his stomach at that. He grabbed the lube and slicked himself up, wrapping his thumb and forefinger tightly around the base of his cock to try and simulate a cock ring. Sure, it wasn’t as effective as the real thing, but Cas didn’t want to be caught dead in a sex toy shop. Dean laid back as Cas pressed the head against his rim, teasing enough to not push in. Dean squirmed as he tried to press against him.

“You’re needy,” Cas smirked as he sunk in. Dean laughed at his comment as Cas bottomed out. He had to take a moment to make sure he could actually last. Dean could be a dick and sometimes Cas wanted to break his nose or cut him enough for a trip to the ER (not like he would, but he could dream), but  _ God _ did he have an ass sent straight from heaven. Dean purposely tightened around him and Cas smacked his ass, scowling as Dean only giggled more.

“You are  _ so _ lucky I didn’t include laughing, Winchester,” Cas huffed. Dean cackled harder until Cas pulled out entirely. He groaned, making a sad attempt to flip him off. It was a struggle since his hands were angled where Cas couldn’t see his fingers very well, but he got the message. Cas still could never understand how the fuck  _ Dean _ of all people got caught up in murder, especially in moments like these where he just seemed so  _ normal _ . Then again, it was necessary that they seemed normal. Otherwise, they’d end up caught.

Dean loudly cleared his throat.

“Don’t rush me,” Cas said simply, “I’ve been  _ very _ forgiving. I can change that, Dean,” he warned as he slammed back in. Dean let out a surprised moan as Cas set his arms by Dean’s sides for support. Confident with his arm strength, he began to pound into him. Cas started out fast, making sure to specifically search out his prostate. As soon as he hit it, Dean let out a desperate moan and bit his lip to refrain from speaking. He hooked his knees over Cas’ arms, lifting his ass enough to swing back using his legs and push against his hips.

“You feel amazing-” Cas breathed as Dean let out another moan, his cock still mostly neglected. Cas made sure he was steady on one arm, feeling the strain in his muscles as he moved Dean’s leg to his shoulder and wrapped a hand around him. He stroked Dean in time with his thrusts, pressing his thumb into the slit of his cock and varying the amount of pressure he used. Dean cried out, pushing harder against Cas’ body. He let out a huff, taking his hand off of Dean’s cock and pressing on the back of his knees. He pushed so Dean was just about folded in half before resuming his pace,  _ much _ harder than before, making sure to use the new angle to his full advantage.

The bed creaked in protest as the headboard slammed against the wall, but Cas sure as fuck didn’t care. Neither did Dean, who was struggling against his cuffs. Dean was sweating, and it mixed with the blood and likely burned his wounds. Cas knew that it all probably stung, but Dean only seemed egged on by the extra pain, moaning louder and trembling as he got close to his climax. Right before he came, Cas smirked and wrapped a tight hand around his cock. Dean still came, but it wasn’t much and he was still rock hard when he came down from it. Cas laughed.

“That was pathetic,” he smirked.

“Fuck you. That was your fault,” he huffed. Cas grabbed the knife, slicing into the back of his thigh. Dean let out another moan at that.

“And you remain a slut,” he hummed, “Does it feel good when I cut you? When I leave scars so  _ everyone _ knows you’re mine?” He asked. “God, at this point I should just leave my initials on you,” he traced the tip of the blade over Dean’s heart as he slowly thrusted into him, being careful not to hurt him or overstimulate him too much.

“Would you like that?” Cas asked. Dean nodded profusely, his eyes shut tightly. Cas picked the pace up and pulled out entirely as soon as Dean was close again, which hardly took long. Dean let out a sob and Cas leaned over, slicing a C shape right on his chest.

“Please-” Dean whimpered, “Castiel- please-”

“Please what?” Cas asked. Dean kept his eyes shut, letting out another sob. He had tears flowing down his cheeks, “Do we need to stop?”

“No- God, no-” Dean panted, “Juice? Can’t think straight-”

Cas immediately pulled out to grab and prepare another box for him. Dean drank it quickly, panting hard and taking a moment as Cas missed the trash can once again.

“Okay-” Dean began, “Okay. I… please…” He hesitated, “Please put your name on me. Want it.”

Cas smirked, “How about… since you asked so nicely, I do my full first name? Castiel, right above your heart.”

“Please- do it-” he breathed shallowly. Cas nodded, slowly making an ‘a’ shape after his initial C, followed by a ‘s,’ and all the way through. His brow was furrowed as he watched the way Dean stayed as still as he could, letting out small moans every time Cas brought the knife back down on him for another letter. He was entranced by the way Dean’s blood dripped down his chest, covering him slowly. When he was done, he sat back and looked at his name. His claim on Dean, so that anyone else with him would know who owned him. He had to tighten his grip on the knife to resist the urge to carve it all over him, fucking into him until he was sobbing for  _ real _ . Dean was breathing harshly, his cock still hard. Cas set the knife down with a shaky hand, remembering his phone and grabbing it to check the time.

“Half an hour left. You’re doing so well,” Cas hummed, kissing him softly. Dean’s lips were soft against his own, and he didn’t miss the way Dean took a second as he tasted himself on Cas’ tongue, “Do you think you can handle another half an hour?”

Dean nodded once, swallowing thickly. Cas wasted no time, pressing the tip of his cock back against his rim and sinking back into the heat of Dean’s body. He fucked into him harshly, hunched over him so he could bite and suck on his neck, leaving a large hickey there. Dean let out little moans every time his hips met the skin of his ass and Cas could feel the blood from a few of his cuts dripping down his own thighs.

“Dean-” Cas panted, and  _ wow _ , he was a lot closer than he remembered. He could feel the pleasure building, heat practically radiating from him as Dean wrapped his legs tightly around Cas’ waist. Cas pulled away from his neck and pressed his hand right above where his name was carved into Dean’s skin. He knew his own sweat made that hurt, along with the pressure, and Dean cried out but grinded harder against him. Cas used the leverage to pound into him, the heat building in his stomach. Dean let out a broken moan from the pleasure-pain, his voice cracking. He was overwhelmed.

Cas really didn’t care.

  
As long as Dean wasn’t telling him to stop, Cas kept going. He chased his own release, letting out a stinted groan as he ground deeply into him, sweat dripping down his brow. Cas felt like he was on fire at that point, so close to the edge and trying to last just a  _ little _ longer. Dean tightened around him and Cas let out a growl from somewhere deep in his chest.

“Fuck,” Dean gasped, pressing back against him, “Cas- fuck me.  _ Please _ \- need you so bad," he panted, "Wanna feel you in me ” Dean whimpered. Cas knew he would have to take the time to punish Dean accordingly for speaking, but when he begged so beautifully?

He could make an exception, just that once.

Cas looked him in the eyes, smiling at the tear tracks down his cheeks and slammed into him. It only took a few more thrusts before he realised that he absolutely could not last any longer.

“ _ Dean _ . Holy shit-” Cas gasped as lights exploded behind his eyes. He hadn’t realized how damn pent up he was and he was pretty sure he blacked out for at least a second. When he finally came down from his orgasm, he pulled out of Dean who whimpered loudly. He had fresh tears pouring down his face, his eyes shut tightly. Cas immediately took his hand off of Dean’s chest as he let out a hiss of pain. He reached up to grab his hand, blood smearing over his knuckles as he intertwined their fingers.

“Dean, are you okay? Look at me,” Cas cupped his cheek in the hand he’d been using to hold himself up, brushing his thumb over his cheek and wiping his tears. Dean opened his eyes, letting out a whimper.

“Cas, I’m so  _ close _ ,” he whimpered. His thighs were shaking and he was pale. Cas forced him to drink another juice, taking the time to wipe up some of the blood. He knew he couldn’t hold out any longer without Dean passing out. He was burning up, whimpering as Cas cleaned some of his wounds. When Dean’s blood was mostly wiped off of him, Cas took a moment to admire him. His legs were spread wide, blood dripping down his thighs. His ass was just an overall mess, clearly well fucked. Cas’ cock gave a twitch at that, but he was spent and had a feeling that Dean wouldn’t be conscious long enough for his refractory period to fuck off. With that in mind, he didn't bother slicking his fingers as he pushed three into him. He leaned down to deepthroat him, rubbing his prostate ruthlessly as he choked on his cock. Dean’s toes curled as he thrashed around to get Cas’ fingers deeper. Almost instantaneously, he went completely limp as he came into Cas’ mouth. Cas swallowed it all to the best of his ability, pulling off of his cock with a wet pop and wiping his fingers off for what felt like the thousandth time that night.

“Holy shit,” Dean whined, completely boneless. Cas immediately uncuffed him, wrapping his raw wrists in bandages. Dean immediately tried to stretch them out as his joints cracked. 

Cas looked for the deepest cuts first, pressing butterfly bandages over them to close them. He used an antibiotic ointment over them all, especially his name, before covering them in gauze. He wrapped his thighs in bandages and used a few large bandaids over the cuts on his chest and hips. He wiped the remaining blood off of Dean’s body before grabbing him by the hand, pulling him upright. 

Dean’s eyes were glazed and Cas had to drag him to his feet, handing him a damp towel to clean himself up with. His legs were trembling badly and he was  _ very _ out of it, but he still took the time to wipe himself down as Cas set his knife on the nightstand and pulled the sheet off of his bed. He enjoyed the brief moments where he could care for Dean after pulling him so close to his limits, and took a moment to really appreciate his body and scars.

Cas had done  _ wonderful _ work on him, his thighs a mess of pale lines from previous cuts.

“Thanks Cas,” Dean yawned, swaying on his feet. Cas smiled as he pulled the new fitted sheet over the mattress, helping Dean into a pair of his boxers. Dean was just about limp, letting Cas pamper him and gently place him in a laying position. 

“Juice,” Cas said after grabbing another box, placing the straw in his mouth. Dean drank it quickly before Cas pulled him down, carefully resting his head on the pillow. When he was sure Dean was stable, he cleaned himself up and threw a pair of underwear on backwards, finally taking the time to walk to his trash can to properly dispose of the numerous juice boxes. He took the few full boxes back to the kitchen, padding along the tiles quietly so he wouldn’t risk waking Dean up. Much to his surprise, he returned only to see that Dean had remained awake. Cas laid beside him, pulling the blankets over them and flipping onto his side to see him. Dean’s eyes were lidded, a little clearer but still tired.

“Always wanted to know what you did after that,” Dean yawned, “I always fall asleep too quickly. Leave you with the hard work.”

“You’re the one who lets me cut you up, it’s the least I could do,” Cas said, unable to stop his own yawn from seeing Dean, “I get my fill of drawing blood from you.”

“Ah, using your murdery habits on me,” he teased. Cas rolled his eyes, although there were absolutely butterflies in his stomach at seeing Dean’s little smile.

“You know the name thing’s gonna leave a scar, right?” Cas asked.

“Want the scar,” Dean mumbled, pulling Cas close and nuzzling into his neck. The butterflies were having a full grand mal seizure in his stomach at that point, and Cas couldn’t help but embrace them and hold him tightly.

“Thank you for putting up with me, then,” Cas petted his hair gently.

“I like putting up with you,” Dean huffed, “Like talkin’ to you, fucking you, all of that. We should do more of it, by the way.”

“Talking or fucking?” Cas asked.

“Yeah,” Dean laughed, almost delirious. Cas figured he’d be pretty out of it from the mix of blood loss and post orgasmic bliss, and he highly doubted Dean meant what he was saying, but he could always hope.

“Thanks again, Castiel,” Dean sighed before his breath slowed, his eyes fluttering shut.

Yep, he was out for the night.

Cas leaned in, pressing a kiss to his temple. With one last final glance under the blankets where he knew various butterfly bandages covered Dean’s wounds, he knew he wasn’t going to be letting Dean go anytime soon.

“Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading and i really hope you enjoyed! if you want to yell at me on twitter for having the gall to make this, you can find me [here!](https://twitter.com/destieil) my dms are always open  
> leangreencastielmachine's twitter is [here!](https://twitter.com/hellernovak)  
> comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


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